Mr. Harris's etiquette review lessons were frustrating for several reasons. The least of which being, the rotund man, ran a tight ship. "The dinner is the center of the conversation, consideration, and the gauge for measuring the family's wellbeing. Good manners are the outward expression of our inward character shining forth like the noon-day sun. It is kindness. Etiquette is behaving yourself more superior than necessary." He then smacked Mary's hand away from the goblet.
She thought her manners were impeccable. According to Harris, they are "Underdeveloped and a tad naive." Once he had determined this, a grueling regime involving manners, charm, and character development began. At one point he told her "You lack the art of the first impression. Your first impression is crying out for help. But never fear, Harris is here. By the time you leave for the coronation, you will have embraced your own uniqueness, you will have stronger confidence, better eye contact, the ability to remember names, greater poise and posture, and so much more."
It was after this soliloquy that Harris took his etiquette cane (as he calls it) and rapped it on the floor. "No, no, no. Head up, Duchess. And for the hundredth time, do not slouch Lady Dot." His lips pursed together as his hand ran over his face.
This was just the beginning. The two ladies were given a list of items to practice at home. Mary found practice difficult with Charles. She needed to play off him practicing introductions. All he has to do is act like he doesn't know her. The two will greet and she will go from there. Simple really, except it was not.
When she held her hand out, he would lock eyes with her, kiss the proffered hand, and run his own fingers up her arm in a sensual manner. It left the feeling of tingles up and down her body. And when she practiced eye contact and introduced herself to him, he gave to her his perfected sultry look. Then he would tell her ridiculous seductive things like "I put a tear in the ocean. When you find it, I'll stop loving you," or "You deserve the world, and I realize I cannot give that to you. So I'll give you the next best thing— my world," and her personal favorite...
With an extended hand in her direction, he would say "Mind holding this while I go for a walk?"
She crossed her arms in disapproval and stared him down. "It's impossible to study with you, you roguish charmer," she told him with displeasure. Even though she said it, she ended up taking a stroll with him anyway— holding his hand as they went.
On Friday Harris gave her an assignment to be completed for Monday. It is the things like this that make his lessons uncomfortable for her. It forces her to take long looks at herself and deal with things best kept hidden. "You must list five positive qualities you like about yourself and five activities you can do well," the proud butler explained.
This gave Mary fits. She is hard-pressed to list two things she likes about herself much less five. The assignment is going to trouble her and it did.
Saturday saw her sit in solitude, in the drawing-room. With parchment and quill, she tried to make the list of things. "OK, five positive qualities. You can do this Mary. There has to be a few things you like about yourself." She tried to give herself a pep talk. It didn't work. She sat there and sat there staring out the large window overlooking the grounds.
She is... intelligent. So she wrote it down. Being alone with her feelings is the worst place to be. There's nowhere to hide. It's all there darting about in her mind. The only thing she can do is bear it.
As she tapped the quill on the writing-table, Charles entered. All smiles and eyes for her, he came near. Peering over her shoulder, he read "Five qualities. Intelligent." Then he asked, "What is this?"
A groan left her lips. "Harris gave me a task. I have to make two lists. One is a list of five qualities I like about myself and the other one is five activities I can do well." She gazed at the paper.
He noted she only has one thing written and questioned her about that too. "You've been in here for a while. You only have one thing?"
Sitting back in the chair, slumped a little, she admitted "It's the only thing I can think of."
He eyed her. Then took a chair, covered in a sunny yellow fabric, and moved it beside her own. In his heart, he knows it's time they have another heart-to-heart conversation. "Why can you only think of one thing you like about yourself?" As he sat there watching her, he saw her walls start going up. Her eyes became shuttered, as she gazed out the window.
Taking the quill from her hand, he laid it down on the desk. Placing his hand on top of hers, he took her caring hand and began massaging it. "We need to talk about this. But first, shall I tell you some of the qualities I like about you?" She only stared at him, blank expression, not saying a word. To anyone else, they would take that and leave. But for him, knowing his wife the way he does, her silence speaks volumes.
He placed a kiss on top of her loving, gentle hand. "Alright. First I love your small, dainty hands. They're a perfect fit for my bigger ones." To emphasize this he held her hand up to his and laced their fingers together. "I could tell you more about your features like your eyes, hair, mouth, lips, body." He examined her suggestively. "But I think you need to hear me say more important qualities. So here goes. You are one of the most resilient people I know. You take your rags and turn them into riches. That's why you're unstoppable. You continue on in spite of banishment, heartache, and doubts."
Another kiss was given. This time to her cheek. "Next you are thoughtful. Probably the most thoughtful woman, born of nobility, I've ever known. You consider others, especially those who can't do anything for you— those less fortunate. You have already been practicing making first impressions all along, but never knew it. My Darling, your thoughtfulness is worth more than a great sum of money. It always leaves a fond impression."
On her forehead, his kiss was bestowed. "Also I love how you are reliable. And this is important because there's a great deal of trust involved here. You show a great amount of devotion to different productive pursuits like the foundling home, Governance Day, the people of our Duchy, Westhrope Hall, our servants, your faith, and me. Your reliability hasn't gone unnoticed, believe me. You have led others to not just believe what you say but to believe in you. I trust you implicitly with everything, especially me and my heart."
She sat there listening to every word he says with bated breath. Never has she heard anyone voice words like this about her, much less to her either. His words humble her and ignite her already deep affections for this man. He's the reason she smiles again. God knew her heart needed him.
With admiration, his blue eyes beheld her own. "Finally of all the women in the kingdom, you are the most constructive. I told your father about how beneficial you have been to me and the Duchy. Your innovative thoughts have helped to bolster Suffolk's financials, resources, and productivity. That's as rare as a unicorn. You build and not destroy."
He took her face into his hands. His head moved forward, lips descending. Just before they touched hers, he stopped short. A whisper passed over her mouth. "I love you," his voice declared. Then he joined his lips to hers. With her face so close he could smell her sweet scent: roses, vanilla, something fruity. That hint of fruitiness is driving him mad. He has to know what it is.
His heart beat faster as they kissed. As with everything since she came to live here since they wed, she bloomed like the Tudor rose in a garden of thorns. If only she could remove the thorns her father pricked her with, then she might blossom completely. But for now, this is more than enough, more than he could have imagined with her.
Only able to focus on how soft she is against him versus his gruff, crass exterior. There's raw emotion in the way her lips fit with his own. When he kisses her it's like thirsting for water after being parched in some wasteland. He needs the hydration that only she can quench. He needs her. She's addictive. Never will he forget the taste of her mind and heart. He drinks her in.
Pulling back for breath, he ran his thumb over her well-loved lips. She gave it a tender kiss. His gravelly voice requested "Write those qualities I told you down." With a nod, she did. Then he helped her come up with a list of activities she does well. Although he led with something coarse. "You attend to my needs very well." She swatted his arm for that.
By the time the list was finished, she had written good at planning and executing the plan, creative pursuits, listening, turning life's lemons into a lemon pie, and loving others (which includes her husband).
Then he took her hand and walked her over to the couch. Once seated he asked "So tell me. Why do you think so poorly of yourself?" He saw her walls start to go up, but at the last moment, she held them back.
Unable to look at him, she confessed long-buried ideas. "I think I'm a great disappointment. I am not what my father wants. Also, I'm not as pretty as some of the beautiful ladies of the court. My body isn't as perfect as theirs. I am flawed. And I guess I feel like my flaws are why I'm a disappointment. I've thought that way for a very long time. If I'm not perfect in every way, then I'll be thrown back into that castle again. Back to where I came from." A few tears ran down her cheeks.
Wiping the tears away, his heart could feel the lingering hurts from her father's rejection. She's the type of girl that can smile at you and help you, yet still, be so hurt. "Sweetheart, you will never not be loved by me. You are too woven into the fabric of my life and heart. I refuse to throw you away, ever. You are not going back to that castle, nor will you be departed from me. I plan to live a long life with you." His hand stroked over her hair.
As he gave attention to her gorgeous head, he stated "Everyone is flawed, even those ladies you wish you looked like. And I have to tell you, I've seen their bodies. They do not compare to you. I admit I am partial because I love you. But you, My Darling, turn me on from just the touch of your hand, the sound of your voice, a look from across the room, and of course your beautiful body. It wasn't like that with them."
He turned himself, so he could see her, really see her. "Mary, you don't inspire people by being perfect. You inspire people with how you handle your imperfections. I'm going to say this and leave it out here. In regards to your father, don't let what the king wants overshadow what you need. He thinks he's the sun, the moon, and the stars. To a lot of people he is. But he's not, not really. Instead, you are. You are my sun, my moon, and the brightest star in the sky. And not just for me, but for the people of our Duchy too."
Oh, how she felt that—- REALLY felt it, way down deep into her soul. Her father's absence hurt every day for so long. But it's time to allow herself to come to terms with the fact, the truth, of the matter. And it is this. In the garden of her life many things, good things, lovely things are growing, but her father is nothing except dead plants that she's been watering. It's time to stop watering it. If he wants her in his life, at all, he will put her there. She shouldn't have to fight for a spot in it or her spot as heir to the throne.
This time she was the one who scooted, no crawled, over to her Duke. Situating herself in his lap, she admitted "It's so hard to let go of that relationship. He's my father, you know?"
Kissing the top of her head, he shook his own. "Sweetheart, what relationship?" he asked. At the feel of her stiffen, he knew he had either said the wrong thing or she finally gets it. He prays it's the latter. Then he declared, "You and I have a relationship. A very good relationship. I want you to think about us. Now think about your father. What do you have with him?"
That stung. Her heart stings and so do the tears, but none more than her father's rejection. "I don't want to get you in trouble if I let go."
Instantly he said "You will not. Honor the king, but have zero expectations from your father. Your father has disrespected you over and over. Sometimes you have to let go for your own peace of mind. I want that for you."
She wants that for herself. So she began building new walls. Ones to not keep out, but to protect what little peace she's found. Peace with her husband, her companions, and her Duchy.
As she pondered these things, the following week saw Mary and Dot take time with Lady Flora. She had them meet her bright and early Tuesday morning, telling them both "Do not eat breakfast. You can break your fast at my house." So they arrived as told, a little tired and very hungry.
A wonderful English breakfast had been laid out. While they ate Harris corrected them. "Oh good Lord Lady Dot. We do not hold the fork that way." He smacked her hand and she quickly changed it. To Mary, he grimaced and said, "Duchess please stay poised with good posture. Now use the knife delicately. Tut, tut— delicately if you please. Your hard work and diligence will pay off."
To which the Dowager Countess told him, "Hard work and diligence Harris? Hard work and diligence mean nothing compared to beauty in the real world. Ha!" Both girls snickered at her comment and Harris's ever so put upon face.
As soon as breakfast was over, the Countess ushered them into the sitting room. "Today a fine master seamstress will be joining us. And no, she is not from here or London or even home in Scotland. In fact, she is from Cornwall. The interesting thing is not very many people in England know about her. Yet she has dressed the majority of the royalty in Scotland, France, and Denmark. The English tend to go with what they know and play it safe."
Mary's excitement grew by the minute. She is getting a whole new wardrobe from a qualified expert. Charles gave her money for it, more money than Lady Flora told him she would need. He simply fixed his wife with a look and said "You deserve it."
When the seamstress did arrive, she was escorted straight into the room. Her assistant carried several bags laden with a sketchbook, drawing utensils, fabric samples, coordinating embellishments, tape measure, pins, and anything else she might need. The tailoress introduced herself as "Lady Lillian My Lady. Tell me about your style and what you're looking for."
She did and even began to explore the fabrics. Her hands raked over choices in solid black, navy, maroon, and gold. However, the Dowager Countess outright stated "You did not wake up today to be mediocre. Step away from the dull fabrics." She put them down and stepped back. Lady Flora told Lillian "We would like to see some prints and low cut necklines."
Feeling scandalized, Mary's face must have shown it because the Countess explained "Your goals should scare you a little and excite you a great deal. Your future depends on your choices today and boring fabrics will never do."
This is how she came to find herself the owner of many new, very pretty gowns. Some with higher necklines and some with shockingly low necklines. At any rate, her husband will just love the low ones. A favorite of hers is a regal design with a V-neck, even though the gold bodice has a chic high collar. The sleeves are sheer to the elbow and embellished with gilded adorations. The skirt is full-length black satin. It's incredibly enchanting.
Another favorite is a stunning creation of illusion lace and mesh, with twinkling embroidered decoration. It is also floor length with an A-line silhouette and mesh sleeves. The dress itself is grayish fabric and the adornments are gold. Where the first dress makes her feel stately, this one makes her feel a little frivolous. She likes that feeling and both are exquisite.
There are many gowns that Lillian designed which she loves. They will all be delivered before she and the Duke depart for London. She can't help but feel like a true Duchess now, maybe even a princess. But more than anything she wants to make her husband proud at the coronation and events surrounding it. This is why she pushed herself to pay attention more to Harris and Lady Flora than before. Their teaching is nothing but helpful. She made herself memorize the names of important lower lords and ladies of the court.
As the Countess says, "These are the ones you want to build trade with. If you amass a coalition with them, then the higher lords will follow."
She even spent time practicing her archery and dance skills. All in the name of making Charles proud. If only she knew he was already proud. He's seen the time and effort she's been putting into these lessons and could not be more impressed. It makes him want to be better for her.
On the day they departed, Mary became quieter. The nerves are brewing inside her like the clouds in the sky. Charles was busy directing the servants as to what trunks to carry, while she went through the house folder with Lady Ashdown and Cranston. Dot and Joan were gathering their own things.
When it was time to leave, Charles took his wife by the arm and led her outside. The servants all lined up to see them off, but there was a surprise waiting for Mary out by the carriage. The Dowager Countess came to say goodbye. Lady Flora embraced her favorite Duchess. She reminded her "Do not let anyone dim your light, because it's shining too bright in their eyes. And above all remember, never look as though you disapprove." She handed her a book. "For the ride."
Then she and Charles got into the carriage, while Dot rode in a separate one, and the servants they are bringing in another. The difference on this journey together is a stark contrast from the first time, when they left Ludlow, having just been married. Now they sit close together, holding hands, in love. With one hand around her shoulders and the other caressing her arm with his thumb, her nerves quieted.
The wind began picking up outside. The clouds rolled in with shades of violet. From afar lightning flashed. Mary shivered a little and Charles grabbed the blanket. They cuddled under it together. But she couldn't help to think the storm is a warning of sorts. It feels that way. Like the nobility gathering for the sham coronation, a storm is rolling in. Batten down the hatches. Best be ready.